The Cross On Your Hill
tis the beat of sorrow
that undresses the body of god.
the wind driven by need
that blows out the candle.
and the darkness that holds suffering
that wraps around the desire...
tis my tongue nailed
to the cross on your hill.
i run with the wolves,
and swim with the whales.
i know the sound of the bullet striking,
and the echo of the fall.
i taste the empty of the cup
held by the grimy hand...
i've stood by the fires,
where lost souls shuffle and stomp.
i am heart and hand,
penis, and spirit.
i am the madness,
and the ear sliced off.
i want, i need,
i breathe with the earth.
i'll stand by your window
when the moonlight fails.
clouds, wind, and whispering spirits,
your lips, your eyes...
i cant escape!
and all the dreams
and the journeys,
are nothing more...
the wars have ended,
my love just begun!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
